


One bearded Captain America, please.

by orphan_account



Series: A Bottle of Sin [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bleeding Edge, Felching, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, I'm confused, M/M, Rimming, Romantic Fluff, Smoking, Tony Stark is a genius, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, all those romantic fluffy smutty shits going on, also, and there you go, and yes, can we move on to fisting in next chapter, i forgot, i'm not going to say smoking is injurious to health because fuck lyfe wut lyfe bye, is disarmour a word or is it unarmour or is it neither, like sam bucky and natasha, mention of some of the avengers, nobody read the fucking tags you dumbshit, oh yeah, part two of smoking steve where they got together dy yeaaa, this is my proclaiming my never ending love for that armour, wait nope nada, we got FRIDAY in the house yall, well you get it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 08:29:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19225444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Tony convinced Steve to grow his beard back. Now if only he can get Steve to grow his hair long enough for a sexy manbun





	One bearded Captain America, please.

It takes a month, precisely, for Steve to grow his nomadic beard.

 

“How long will it take for you to grow a man-bun?” Tony asks, curiosity a foggy thing is his head as he mindlessly runs his thumb along Steve’s jaw, enjoying the rough prickles of his facial hair, body pressed lengthily along Steve’s under mussed up cotton sheets.

It’s a menace when they make out. Unlike Tony’s fashionably trimmed one, Steve simply let his do their own thing, wiry and uneven length, until Tony dragged him up to the mirror with a trimmer in hand and demanded Steve stay put while he worked his magic.

_“Don’t go all Tony Stark on it.” Steve requested, blue eyes shimmering in apprehension under Tony’s bathroom light and Tony squawked, “Are you hating on my billion dollar facial hair, now?”_

_Steve’s arms, circled around his hips tugged until Tony’s stomach went flush against Steve chest. “I’m not hating on it, but I don’t think anyone else other than you can pull it off.” He kissed Tony’s bare sternum, teasing with a kitten lick making Tony sigh and allow his fingers to card through Steve's short blonde strands, musing them up until they all stuck up, laughing heartily as he pulled at Steve’s hair and took a good look at his face with the new hairdo._

It’s been about eight months and twenty days since Tony caught Steve smoking in Brooklyn. Things hadn’t been a smooth ride exactly after that. Time helped, and since they both live under the same roof – Tony moved out into the compound permanently after the battle with Thanos and Steve refusing to lead the team unless Tony’s joining – it wasn’t a hard task to seek each other out, and boy oh, boy, isn’t a determined Captain America a force of the nature.

_Steve sought Tony out like he was Hydra. Always there whenever and wherever Tony turned, to the point that Tony discreetly asked FRIDAY to spy on him to find out how and the AI brightly chirped, that’s a no problem since Captain Rogers asked to do the same to Tony. “Motherfucker!”, was one way to react to that information. Another was to barge into the Captain’s suite when he was just exiting from his shower and demand in a startled hoarse rasp, “W-What the fuck you’re doing?”_

_Which in retrospect, was the stupidest way to approach the subject but Tony never prided in thinking straight when he was in the presence of Steve Rogers. A surprised, “Tony!” coupled with a panicked clutching to the towel wrapped clumsily around his waist and a full body blush was enough to trip Tony out of the suit with a loud slam to its door, heat spreading in his chest and breaths heaving. “Fuck.”_

_The ambush didn’t repeat but their meeting happened less than an hour from that awkward encounter, where Steve timidly knocked on Tony’s door, head hung low and one hand scratching at the nape of his neck, “Sorry.” He apologized, unmoving from his position at the doorway. “FRIDAY told me…” He trailed off, tilting is head meaningfully._

_Tony gnawed on the back of his pencil, shrugging with ease after a solid thirty minutes he had to cool the fuck down earlier, “That’s okay. I tasked FRIDAY after you so, now we’re even.” He worked out a wink, feeling absurd after he did because the fuck? How the fuck? And why the fuck he thought it was okay to wink at Steve Rogers._

_But his internal freak out was banished as soon as it had begun when Steve laughed, blossoming pink blushes and his hair still wet from the recent shower, looking like a bottle of sin that made things go wild in Tony’s heart and pants. “Can I come in?” He asked, brandishing his dearest sketchbook from where ever he’d been keeping out of view and entering with his usual bounce on his feet when Tony gave an affirming nod._

After, it was both easier and harder. If Tony was aware of the sexual tension between them, after he witnessed Steve fresh out his shower, it was all he could think of. Steve didn’t make it easier either, going as far as peeling off his sweater and sprawling out in his tight, white wife-beater on his couch in Tony’s workshop, knowing that Tony’s facing him. Occasionally he would stretch, riding up the material to reveal wide stripe of pinkish skin above his belt, keeping his hands busy on his sketchpad feigning obliviousness and Tony had to keep it all in, biting the inside of his cheek and forcefully turning away when his pants feel just too tight.

But there were not the only developments between them. Whilst teasing occupied partly their time together, they also made time to actually learn about each other. Going on dates from time to time, much to the Team’s glee and they got teased incessantly for that. Name callings; “Mom and Dad” and playground song chanting; “Steve and Tony sitting on a tree, K.I.S.S.I.N.G”. The latter is more of a Sam and Bucky thing, with added verses whenever Clint dropped by. At some point, when Natasha started joining the chorus, Tony finally flipped and made out with Steve in front of them just for spite.

That was another thing. Making out without the sex. At first, after their first kiss, it didn’t grow to be more than that, staying by chaste kisses, tentative pecks and long hugs until their second date rolled in, when Steve cooked lasagna for Tony and put on the Lord of the Ring trilogy, along with the couch with bulky blankets and a flickering modern wood-fire on one cold winter night, it was inevitable that all the proximity, body heat and the perpetual sexual tension would lead to them to be plastered against one another, cuddling and occasionally exchanging kisses, then tongue and then saliva and then full on making out while Frodo struggles to throw the one true ring into the Mount Doom.

The first time they had sex, it wasn’t planned but neither were surprised.

_“The lube’s in the first drawer.” “Been using it a lot?” “Whenever I think about you, yes.”_

Face burning from hearing Steve’s frank confession, Tony had insisted that he’s allowed to do the fucking. _“I want you to demonstrate to me how you use it then.”_ To which, Steve gladly rose to the challenge, eyes smoldering as he stretched himself open, letting Tony appreciate his form however he wants with his mouth, tongue and own fingers. When Tony joined Steve’s fingers with one of his thumb, Steve’s back arched and he came spurting wantonly, stunning Tony with his beauty that Tony’s jaw went slack and he couldn’t help but worship him even more, licking up all the white ropes Steve donned with pride on his stomach. _“Go on, fuck me,”_ was all that Tony apparently needed to push in and drag the night into crack of dawn, working for a long shuddering, draw out orgasm (by which then, Steve had come three more times.)

 

Now, as he lays, splayed out on top of his partner, his brain is a bliss-ed out thing from a long night of nothing but pure sex and Steve’s recently trimmed beard feels oddly scruffy under his lazy fingers.

“They grow really fast -.” Steve mumbles, stifling a yawn that interrupts him, “- guess it's the serum.” He finishes, blinking with crowfeet and smile lines directed at Tony in his arms and Tony feels his heart soar high out of his grasp. He kisses a silent whisper of ‘I love you’ into Steve’s bare chest, sighing against the teasing brushes of chest hair and plastering his cheek against them, closing his eyes in contentment.

He’s yet to say those three words aloud for Steve. Feeling the heavy dip in his stomach whenever Steve mumbles them out, or whispers, or murmurs and on one occasion, yelled it out for him. _“I fucking love you, you bastard! Why can’t you get that across your genius brain!?”_ That was one trippy week of miscommunications, insecurity and blatant stupidity from Tony’s part. Basically a tale to recount on another day, when rains are splattering on the window and there’s a huge mug of chocolate in his hand, not now when he’s in Steve’s arms with the morning sun warming soothingly over his exposed back.

Honestly, it’s not that he doesn’t want to say it. It’s not that he couldn’t say it either, because he had, when Steve was sleeping and he’d breathed it out unknowingly or like now, when he whispers it into Steve’s skin. It’s just that he hasn’t said it as loud as Steve has. But that’s alright, because Steve knows.

“I love you.” He hears a murmur in time to prove him right. It sounds less like a proclamation and more like a response to his earlier silent ‘I love you’.

Now back to Steve’s beard. “Can you grow a man-bun for me?” Tony asks nicely, looking up from beneath his lashes, chin propped up on hard chest.

Steve’s long fingers run through his bed hair, thumb resting against his temple, rubbing a soothing circle and Tony tilts his head a little to kiss the broad palm. Blue eyes flickers with something and Steve’s fingers clutches hard at the back of Tony’s head, tugging him upwards until his face is in level with Steve’s and Steve kisses him, open mouthed and sour breath, another hand working down to cup at Tony’s ass, finger dipping between the cleft and teasing at his sore hole, eliciting a surprised moan from Tony.

“If you had a man-bun, I could pull your hair back when you suck my dick.” Tony gasps, his brain running on its own coarse while his body is wildly responding towards Steve’s doings. “When I fuck you hard from the back and you do that thing where you throw your head back, can you imagine how good you’d feel when I’m pulling at your hair?” He shudders as Steve growls and bites sharply under his jaw. “Hmm? Steve?” His mouth keeps working, spilling out words digressing to random sounds before his tongue loses its laxity and all that comes out from his mouth were heavy pants.

“Fuck.” He exclaims, when Steve flips him onto his back, never pausing as he descends to Tony’s hips, sheets strewn out and away, exposing both of their naked form to the warm sun rays, refracted through Tony's floor to roof glass windows. “Fuck.” Tony grown, thumping his head sharply on the headboard when he feels Steve’s hot mouth enveloping his cock, coarse buds of his tongue running across the head and along its length until the base, then the balls and downwards and downwards Steve goes, tongue licking a path all the way to Tony’s sore hole where he drags a flat stripe over it, repeating until it feels slobbery there, then Steve’s back up, swirling his skillful tongue across Tony’s cock and humming victoriously.

When Steve fucks into him, it’s carefully slower than when they did the previous night - or few hours before, if precision is of importance. He drags it long and hot, one languid thrust after another, aimed to make Tony’s head spin with haze as he tries vehemently to hold onto some semblance of reality but failing. Head thrown back, pillows off the bed, Tony grapples with the cotton sheet beneath him, eyes shut close and all his senses singularly focused on Steve and Steve only. Steve, who pins both of his wrists above his head, stomach flat and delicious against Tony’s untouched dick, as his own cock large and heavy fills Tony to the brim, setting fire to each one of his nerve, spilling out yesterday's cum he’d shot into Tony, and he licks a long stripe up Tony’s neck, biting at his lips and sucking them into his mouth, tongue darting out and dipping into Tony’s open mouth, swapping saliva and heavy breaths.

“I’ll grow a man-bun for you.” He pants into Tony’s ear, sucking in the lobe and letting go with a sloppy pop. “I’ll do anything for you, Tony Stark.” He promises, hands slipping down Tony’s arms, carving a path to his waist where they hold on tight with bruising strength as Tony’s spine arches, released fingers shooting up to card through blonde strands and clutch for life. Another hand goes to Steve’s neck, cupping his bearded jaw and Tony pleads with his open eyes, pupils blown wide and lashes fluttering with need. “Kiss me.” He demands, moaning when Steve complies, sneaking one large hand to wrap around Tony’s cock and he gives a harsh pull, thrusting harder and faster into Tony, driving straight to the prostate, setting up a new brutal pace.

When Steve comes, it’s with a shout muffled into Tony’s shoulder, teeth sinking sharply into sweaty skin and he collapses completely on Tony, punching out his last few breaths. “Steve.” Tony complains, squirming. His dick throbbing for attention while his whole body is being paralyzed by the dead weight of his spent partner. “Move, buddy. You’re suffocating me.” He urges, surprisingly patient for a man desperate for his own relief and he still finds it in himself to kiss Steve on his temple when the man groans and finally begins to shift. “Wait.” Steve rasps, clumsily trying to find his balance without hurting Tony, hands grasping urgently between Tony and the bed before he pulls out with a groan and a choked out sob from Tony and then, proceeds to flop down with a heavy huff onto his back, head aligned with Tony’s hips. “Okay.” He breathes, rolling onto his stomach and looking up at Tony with an eager smile on his face, red lips, kiss-swollen with sweaty hair sticking out in all direction and he has the audacity to look Tony in the eyes innocently and say, “Hi.”

A shudder runs up Tony’s spine, making him squirm in discomfort as he tugs at Steve’s hair. “You planning to do anything to this yet?” He growls, thrusting his hip upwards, successfully redirecting Steve’s focus to the straining erection and he watches indulgently how Steve swallows thickly, thumbing at the swollen head, wiping out the pre-come and sucking on it. “Trust me, I am.” He smiles, perfect teeth showing and then, he’s on the move, large body shifting, looming over Tony as he manhandles him into desired position; pulling Tony harshly by the waist then bending both thighs into Tony’s chest. He teases the soft skin of Tony’s inner thighs with his beard and mouth and this time, when he rims, it’s not just tongue but his whole face with a starved ferocity. Tongue, mouth, teeth, beard and all. Dragging and licking and suckling until Tony’s all leaked out and god, when the sun’s reflected in the right angle, Tony can see beads of come stuck on Steve’s beard.

 _“I love your ass.”_ He recalls faintly of Steve confessing. One time when they’ve just returned from a particularly taxing mission and Steve has cornered him to personally disarmour Tony; tapping curiously on the arc reactor and watching with blatant want as the nano particles crept into the reactor before jumping on him. Tony had always suspected the depth of the effect Bleeding Edge had on Steve, but on that evening, as Steve babbled his way through sex, describing in explicit terms however he would like to have Tony, Tony had the privilege to witness it. _“I love to fuck it, I love to eat it and I love to fuck you so full with my seed then eat it all out of you.”_ He’d said.

And now, he’s doing it.

Of course, Tony makes sure to clean up. Every time he’d offered to bottom, he’s particular to prepare before-hand, making sure he’s well to accommodate Steve’s kink because as corny as it sounds, it actually makes him deeply satisfied and happy to give Steve what he wants. Because Tony loves Steve. Just like Steve loves Tony to bare the brunt of his mood when they dip too low for anyone else to cope. When the nights get too rough or the mornings are too sour, Steve stays right there. Even through all the panics and not that Tony doesn’t reciprocate but truthfully, Steve gets lesser interrupted sleep than Tony does. It’s why he hates going to bed even when he’s barely hanging onto the thread of his consciousness, because let’s be real, ageing is shitty as it is without demanding him to sleep every 12 hours a day. But Steve’s good at persuading him, with soft kisses and warm hugs and he’ll cuddle Tony till sleep comes. Then when Tony wakes up, screaming at the top of his lungs, alerting FRIDAY and activating all security protocols, Steve stays, voice a calm bass, coaxing for Tony to relax and lets him know that he’s loved and he’s alright and everything’s okay. Even during the times when he’d tried to touch Tony and the security protocols registered him as a threat and proceeded to attack him...  _Almost_ attack him, because Tony was quicker.

 

“You see what I mean?” Tony gasps, head pressing into the mattress as he holds Steve’s head to his ass, pushing forth. “If you have long hair, you see what I -I God. Fuck! Steeeeve.” A sob spills out as his breath hitches in time to Steve’s tongue probing into his hole, a filthy slurping sound echoing after that. “Oh my god.” Tony whispers in disbelief, straining his neck to watch in wonder as Captain America eat him out, come and all, like a filthy animal. “Oh my god.” He repeats as Steve meets his eyes with a smirk and makes a show of licking his lip before diving back in, rubbing in his beard and it burns deliciously down there, below his dick and around his hole. Sore and soft and Tony feels like he’d died and floating upstream, sighing wistfully with one name in his mind. “Steve.”

When Steve’s apparently finished sucking out all his come, he slips in three thick fingers, tonguing up Tony’s length as he uses his other hand to pump in rhythm to his sucking. He sets a deadly pace with his fingers, thrusting feverishly – in and out Tony's well loosened hole from the number of fucking that happened overnight – repeatedly, jabbing at Tony’s prostate while he slurps at Tony’s dicks, moaning around the length wantonly. His broad shoulders keep Tony’s thighs pressed up and into his chest, exposing all of him for Steve to go to town with. And Steve does just that. “You like this?” He grits out, releasing Tony’s cock with a wet pop as he focuses on fingering Tony to orgasm. “You like when I finger you, don’t you?” He leers as Tony whimpers out strings of ‘yes’s, writhing on the sheet, one hand fisting at Steve’s hair while another thrown back, clutching at the headboard overhead. He barely hears Steve grabbing the lube - doesn’t even recall where they placed it after everything last night – or the sound of him popping the cap open and squeezing a liberal amount, but he feels the cold when it hits him like shards of ice.

He gasps, when Steve pulls out, fingers digging into the headboard, his hand on Steve’s head releasing to grab at the crumpled sheet, then shivers when he puts them back in, all three, sloppily lubed long fingers thrusting back in lazily, pulling out a long moan from Tony when they deliberately rub on his prostate lengthily. “Steeeeve please.” He begs when he feels Steve worming a forth finger in, laying a wet kiss above Tony’s dick, tonguing at his navel as his neck brushes tantalizingly along Tony’s hard cock. The stretch burns. Stinging like a bitch, but Tony loves it. Loves when it hurts a little at the peak of his pleasure. It’s like an art piece with personality, just a little bit more arousing, in his opinion. And Steve just knows how to work him.

Right about when the second knuckle passes through his stretched rim, Tony comes.

Gasping between Steve’s whispered, “Yeah, baby. Just like that,” and his frantically thrusting four fingers,  Tony moans, shuddering through his drawn out orgasm, feeling his abs convulsing as Steve keeps fingering him through the entire unraveling, blown out blue eyes dark and probing as he watches how Tony peaks and comes down in his hands, courtesy of his undoing. “You’re so pretty, baby. So pretty for me.” He gives a last squelching thrust, pressing deep into Tony and shivering, shoulders shaking as he lets his head fall, tearing away from Tony’s eyes, and Tony realizes belatedly that Steve has come for the second time just from fingering him to oblivion.

As Tony sinks into the mattress, his bone thrumming with exhaustion, he thinks he’s disassociated and migrated to another dimension, as he distantly feels Steve help lower his legs, scrunching up a fistful of sheet nearby and wiping gently at Tony’s groin before hoisting himself up to Tony’s level and sinking into his back beside him, huffing out an exhale. Tony doesn’t hear nor see him pulling at the bedside drawer, but knows it in his veins from all their other times that Steve’s lighting up a cigarette, falling into his routine as he takes a long drag after sex. _“Nothing beats this feel.”_ He once said when Tony asked (It's not like Tony's a stranger to that notion but nicotine no longer holds that power over him and he's fine with that). Which makes Tony think that this isn’t the only time he’d had sex after he started smoking, not that it should bother him, but it’s there. Like a nag, sitting at the back of his head and flicking his forehead every time the routine unfolds.

 

Minutes - perhaps hours, Tony’s not so sure – after, he’s found enough energy to nuzzle into Steve’s warmth, rolling to his side and lifting up one led-like leg, enough to fling it over Steve’s body, pinning. Steve responds with a grunt, eyebrows scrunching as he keeps his eyes closed, but one arm comes around Tony’s waist and hold him in place, allowing the hot breaths and wet tongue to prod him at the base of his neck. “I love you too,” He murmurs dazedly, carding heavy fingers into Tony’s sweat dampened hair and massaging his scalp. Tony hums distractedly, brain whirring somewhere in the background slowly but steadily, pulling out his latest project, the last team debriefing, their latest mission, the Nutella jar Sam owes him and Natasha’s latest widow bite he’s finished with, yesterday evening. When he’s about sixty percent sure, he’s back to current age and time, he smacks his lips soundly and declares, “You’re getting a man-bun.”

Steve’s laughter is a tired huff of hot air against his head, his body a sweltering furnace combined with the now angry noon-sun trying to burn off their skin, but Tony’s as happy as a clam as he stubbornly holds himself closer to his personal heater, murmuring a soft “Love you” into Steve’s jugular and maybe it’s loud enough this time, for Steve’s enhanced hearing to pick up. Who knows?

 

**Author's Note:**

> I did mention I like the smoking Steve idea, so I'm running with it
> 
> Also, hi. I write and occasionally update my ongoing works. I also really like comment and kudos. thank you for reading and come hmu at tumblr (Idk how to do linking cause i'm old and rotten so imma just type it out like a true veteran): ily3ktony


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